


We Matter

by robindrake93



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Boys Kissing, Fluff, M/M, POV Third Person, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robindrake93/pseuds/robindrake93
Summary: Gansey thinks that Kavinsky doesn't matter. Ronan thinks differently.
Relationships: Joseph Kavinsky/Ronan Lynch
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	We Matter

**Author's Note:**

> Saw someone on tumblr mention how fucked up it is that Gansey doesn't like Kavinsky therefore Kavinsky doesn't matter. Maggie really did my boy dirty. Anyway, this was inspired by that.
> 
> If you don't like the font color, click "Hide Creator's Style" at the top and it'll revert to black.
> 
> Don't reupload/repost my fics.

Closing his eyes, Gansey leaned his head back on his seat, chin tilted up, throat green in the dash lights. There was still an unsafe sort of smile about his mouth — what a torment the possibility in that smile was — and he said, “There was never a time when that could’ve been you and me. You know the difference between us and Kavinsky? We matter.”

Just then, in that moment, the thought of Gansey leaving for D.C. without him was unbearable. They had been a two-headed creature for so long, Ronan-and-Gansey. He couldn’t say it, though. There were a thousand reasons why he couldn’t say it.

\---

  
Ronan lay on the top of a white Mitsubishi and gazed at the boy beside him. As always when he looked at Kavinsky, it felt like his blood had been replaced by cold, burning gasoline. Gansey’s words from a few nights ago rang in Ronan’s head over and over again. He swallowed and tried to bury how those words had made him feel. 

Kavinsky glanced at Ronan from the corner of his eye before sliding his gaze back to the stars spread out like diamond dust above them. This was one of the rare times that Kavinsky’s mouth was fucking shut, that there weren’t vile words spilling from his lips like bile. Even a beast like him could enjoy the quiet sometimes. 

Ronan pulled one hand from where it cradled his head and set it between them. He was afraid that the movement was too jerky, too unnatural, that Kavinsky would say something unpleasant about it. 

Kavinsky’s gaze slid back to him, eyelids briefly hooding as he gazed down at Ronan’s hand between them. His own hands were settled on his stomach, still except for the rise and fall of his breath. Usually when Kavinsky got high, he went up and up and up into the hottest layer of the atmosphere where he wreaked havoc. Whatever he’d taken tonight made him still and calm like the eye of a storm. After a few minutes, Kavinsky’s hand moved onto the metal beside Ronan’s. His face was turned to the sky, eyes averted as though if he didn’t witness it happen he could deny it. 

There were a thousand reasons not to close the distance between their hands. Ronan stared at Kavinsky’s hand and wondered if it would be warm in his or if the drugs would make Kavinsky’s skin cold to the touch. Only one way to find out. Ronan’s heart pounded. His palms felt clammy. He put his fingers over Kavinsky’s, not really holding his hand so much as resting it where Kavinsky’s happened to be. 

Kavinsky let out a sigh - of relief? - and otherwise didn’t react. His hand was warm. They lay there for a long while in silence, Kavinsky staring at the stars and Ronan staring at him, before Kavinsky’s hand moved again. He gently slotted his fingers between Ronan’s fingers, hesitant and slow, stopping at the first knuckle as if that meant they could deny it was happening. 

Ronan didn’t pull his hand away. He felt wild and dangerous, the way he felt when Kavinsky handed him a Molotov cocktail or a new pill. It was an adrenaline rush to hold Kavinsky’s hand. Ronan watched Kavinsky’s face as he pushed their hands firmly together, fully lacing their fingers. The pads of his fingertips brushed against the torn skin on Kavinsky’s knuckles. 

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Kavinsky rolled onto his side. Their palms were flushed together and sweaty in the summer heat. Kavinsky’s black eyes were bottomless pools to drown in and Ronan wanted to drown. Rolling over brought the two beasts nose to nose. Kavinsky’s breath tasted like the gasoline that ran through Ronan’s veins. 

Ronan’s heart skipped a beat as he closed the distance between their mouths. The pressure made the cut on his lip sting as the scab broke. Ronan’s blood wetted their lips. 

Kavinsky swiped his tongue across their lips, drawing Ronan’s blood into his mouth. He kissed Ronan with an open mouth, lips parted and the burn of gasoline between them. His free hand came up to cup Ronan’s sharp cheek. 

Ronan’s eyelids slid closed. He shifted his other hand from beneath his cheek so that he could curl his fingers in the front of Kavinsky’s shirt. With no one else around and no one likely to see them on the roof of the Mitsubishi, there was no rush and no violence in the kiss. Just them and the unspoken burden of longing between them. Ronan licked the taste of gasoline from Kavinsky’s mouth and smeared blood across his face. 

Kavinsky met Ronan’s tongue with his, rubbing them together. The hand on Ronan’s cheek shifted to the back of his head, along the nape of his neck. His touch was gentle but firm. 

When they parted for air, Ronan searched Kavinsky’s face. What he found scared him - Kavinsky always scared him - but it also cemented in Ronan’s heart. He whispered, “We matter, K. You and I matter.” 

There was a brief confusion in Kavinsky’s face, as he wondered where this came from. Ronan wasn’t usually sentimental. There was a moment as he visibly let it go, a mystery to be solved later. “Fuck yeah we do, Ro,” Kavinsky whispered back. He leaned in for another slow kiss.


End file.
